Page 119

“I can see that.” He backs away.

“Then why did you ask?” I pick up my mug and take a quick sip of my coffee before it gets cold.

“Because it’s Saturday morning.” The blender kicks on, loud enough to drown out whatever response I might have made.

I scroll past a listing with exposed brick, enormous windows, and a monthly rent that makes me question whether the exposed brick is actually made of gold.

The blender cuts off, and I take the opening. “Apartments don’t stop existing on weekends.”

“Apparently the shitty ones don’t.”

I glance up to see Bishop standing on the other side of the kitchen island in gray sweats and a worn Phoenixes T-shirt stretched across his broad shoulders, blond hair still damp from the shower. He twists the lid onto his shaker cup, then takes a long drink of whatever protein concoction he’s made this morning. Banana, if the half-empty peel on the counter is any indication.

The kitchen now smells faintly like banana, coffee, and him. Because of course he smells—and looks—incredible first thing in the morning.

Not that I care.

I’m wide awake now, remember?

He sees me eyeing the banana peel. “Want me to make you a shake?”

“What?” I look up at him. “Ew, no thanks.”

He just shrugs and keeps drinking his shake before tidying up.

“Did you feed the cat?” he asks, catching me off guard.

“Yes.”

“Good.” He moves toward the sink, and I narrow my eyes, following his movements. There’s a small ceramic bowl beside it that definitely wasn’t there yesterday.

Bishop fills it with water and sets it on the far end of the counter. Darcy comes trotting into the kitchen approximately three seconds later, jumps onto a stool, then the counter, and starts drinking.

I slowly lower my laptop screen and tilt my head. Bishop takes another drink of his shake. Darcy laps at his water. Neither acknowledges the other.

“What is happening?”

Bishop lowers his shaker cup. “What?”

I point between them. “That.”

He follows my finger. “Your cat is drinking water.”

“On the counter.”

“Very observant.”

“From a bowl you put there.” My arms cross.

“Seemed easier than him sticking his head under the faucet.”

I stare at him. Darcy continues lapping away like this is a completely normal development. “Who are you and what have you done with Hayes Bishop?”

I feel like I’ve entered the Twilight Zone.

Darcy finishes, sits beside his bowl, and stares at Bishop, who stares back. An unspoken understanding seems to pass between them.

I slowly close my laptop halfway. “Are you two friends?”